Alice Sleeps Poorly
by Aislinn Gesine
Summary: Blurred cityscapes and iced tea make for pleasant interludes during sleepless nights. Hatter is not amused by your ravaging attempts.


It was two in the morning, and Alice couldn't sleep.

She stared at the ceiling, or where she knew it was—the curtains blocked out most of the light from the street—and willed herself to grow tired. She _wanted_ to sleep, wanted to curl up into Hatter's arms and drift into the sweet dreams he'd wished her some four hours prior, but try as she might, she just wasn't tired.

The sweltering summer heat wasn't helping, either.

With a muted sigh of exasperation, Alice lifted the covers, slipping out of Hatter's sleep-loosened embrace. He stirred and murmured something indistinct. Alice bundled the comforter up to imitate her hip under his arm, then tiptoed out of the bedroom.

The floor was deliciously cold against her bare feet. Alice paused outside the door and just stood for a moment, willing the chill to curl up her legs and cool the sticky-sweaty-hot she felt all over her skin, wishing that she would magically feel cold again and be able to scurry back to bed. Unfortunately, despite Alice's not-insignificant force of will, it didn't work.

Alice made a face into the darkness and felt her way towards the kitchen, where she managed to retrieve a glass and open the fridge with a minimum of clatter. For all Hatter's fuss about serving tea 'properly', she'd managed to convince him to let her make a batch of iced tea and stick it in the fridge, helped to no small degree by the oppressive July heat, and Alice was in this moment very grateful for that compromise. She filled her glass almost to the brim and took a long, deep swallow, sighing with happiness at the chill spreading inside her chest. She topped her glass off, then wandered aimlessly into the living room, attracted by the uncovered window.

The city was alive enough, even at this ungodly hour. _City that never sleeps,_ Alice thought wryly, sipping at her tea. Hatter's apartment was in a fairly quiet area for New York City, but there was still enough traffic outside to provide a pretty light show, pulling Alice's attention in and letting her think of absolutely nothing.

That was where Hatter found her, a handful of minutes later, sitting in front of the living room window, legs sprawled across the wood floor, hair beautifully mussed and expression oddly vacant.

'"Alice?" he asked, hiding a yawn. Alice looked over her shoulder at him; her smile was just visible in the artificial light.

"Hi," she said, shifting her supporting hand in an invitation. "I didn't want to wake you."

"'s okay." Hatter took the invitation, flopping down crosslegged next to her. "Can't sleep without you there."

This was true. Alice hadn't realized just how big a toll their last day in Wonderland had taken on Hatter until a week or so after he came to her world, the first night she spent with him. The beginnings were innocent: they'd had a James Bond marathon, and by the time they'd finished _Thunderball_, they were both yawning jaw-cracking yawns. Hatter had offered Alice his couch, ever the gentleman, and made it up with the nicest blankets Alice would let him spare before they both stumbled off to sleep. Alice had been woken up halfway through the night by Hatter sleep-talking—or, more realistically, sleep-crying—and had pestered Hatter awake.

He was badly shaken up. Alice automatically took the role of comforter, soothing him back to sleep, and spent the rest of the night by his side. After that, Hatter's nightmares became a reason, and then a convenient excuse, for Alice to spend every night with him, regardless of what went on between the sheets. Alice did occasionally go home, for the sake of placating her mother, but any night they weren't together was inevitably filled with tossing, turning and terrors for Hatter.

"Everything okay?" Hatter asked, stealing the glass of iced tea for a sip. Alice shrugged.

"Too hot," she said. "Couldn't sleep."

"Mm." Hatter returned the glass and stared out the window as well, looking for what Alice saw in it. "… What are you looking at?"

Alice smiled. "Nothing, really," she said, lifting her drink to her lips. "Which is the idea, I guess."

"What's the idea?" Hatter asked. "The idea is nothing, or nothing's the idea?"

"Both and neither." Alice offered what had become her automatic response to his more confusing questions, and Hatter was content, though he still didn't see what she saw in the blur of colored lights and busy lives outside the window.

"I'm going to go to sleep," he announced after a long silence. Alice glanced over at him.

"Can you?"

"Yes," he replied, and laid down there on the living room floor, resting his head in Alice's lap.

She laughed, a quiet and surprised giggle. "Alright," she said, and placed the glass aside so she could stroke his hair with her free hand. Hatter hummed contentedly as her fingertips massaged his scalp, tracing loving circles across the crown of his head and down his neck. He wore pajamas—real pajamas, with a proper button-up top and everything—most of the time, but on very hot nights like this, he went shirtless, and Alice was glad for it. She liked how she could run her fingertips down his neck and across his shoulders, tracing his musculature, and feel the goosebumps that rose in response. His many scars—some old, white and secretive, others new, pink and mutually painful—were just visible in the half-light, barely more than a subtle change in the shadow's play. Alice traced a circular burn mark by his sternum, then trailed her hand down his chest, her fingers grazing over his nipple in the process. Hatter shivered.

Idly curious, Alice repeated the motion. Hatter shivered again, then stirred, stopping her hand with a touch of his fingers. "Can' do that, Alice," he mumbled, just awake enough to be coherent. "'S not fair. As much as I like ravagin' you at ev'ry possible moment, 'm asleep. And it's hot."

"Okay," Alice whispered, and bent to kiss his cheek. "Sorry."

"Mm." Hatter hummed his forgiveness and let her hand go, relaxing again. Alice confined her fingers' wanderings to his head and shoulders, though she found her thoughts drifting to the mentioned 'ravaging', and had to wonder if it wouldn't help her get to sleep.

"Not gonna happen," Hatter mumbled, and Alice laughed more out of surprise than anything else.

"You read my mind," she said. Hatter smiled smugly against her knee.

"I know," he said, and then, after a pause, "'m sleepin' now."

"Sweet dreams," Alice replied, and firmly kept her thoughts away from any ravaging-related concepts.

There wasn't much else to think about. The traffic outside the window thinned infinitesimally, a brief hush before the early morning storm. It was too early for the sun to rise, so Alice watched the moon drift slowly down towards the horizon, a big heavy circle in the sky. Her mind wandered from one aimless thought to another, pondering tea, books, popcorn, summer, popsicles—and then she turned her thoughts firmly away from where the popsicles were leading her, focusing on the moon until the silver glow tugged her mind in the direction of winter, and what Hatter's reaction to the horrendous weather they were sure to get would be. It was somewhere in between explaining ice scrapers and imagining snowball fights that she finally drifted off, folding down to rest along the line of Hatter's back. She knew she knew she was falling asleep a moment before it happened, and spared a thought of gratitude before she slipped into a dream.

Alice woke up the next morning in bed, curled into the curve of Hatter's body. She stirred slowly, stretching her arms and legs in a lovely rush of blood to her extremities. Behind her, Hatter mumbled something, then chuckled into her neck.

"Morning," he greeted, shifting the arm over her hip to pull her close.

"Morning." Alice turned over to greet him. "Why are we in bed?"

"Because bed is where you sleep," Hatter answered, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No, I mean, why are we in bed now, instead of on the living room floor?"

"Oh." Hatter turned his head to yawn, sparing her his morning breath. "Because I woke up and decided it would be more comfortable. I carried you," he added, seeming particularly proud of that one fact. Alice smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Okay," she said. Hatter grinned and tucked his head into the curve of her shoulder, lipping at her neck.

"So…" he purred in his I-Want-Something voice, his breath warm against her skin.

"What?" Alice asked.

"Last night, there was some talk about ravaging."

Alice grinned. "And?"

"And I was tired and it was hot."

"…And?"

"And now I'm not tired and it's not as hot." Hatter lifted his head, pressing his lips to her jawline. "And some ravaging sounds like a nice start to the day."

Alice laughed despite herself. "Some of us have things to do, Hatter," she teased. He frowned at her.

"Some of _us_," he countered, "can think of better things for some of _you_ to do with _our_ time." And with that, refusing to give Alice any room for argument, he rolled them over so he was on all fours above her, grinning down. "I promise it'll be worth it."

"You promise?" Alice's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Well, if you _promise_…"

"I _promise_," Hatter mimicked right back at her, "that you _will_ sleep well tonight."


End file.
